


HAUNTED

by DonovanS



Series: Paranormal AUs [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Death References, Ghost Sex, Ghost!Jim, Haunting, M/M, Murder, Paranormal, Post Reichenbach, References to Suicide, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonovanS/pseuds/DonovanS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian came to terms with Jim's death rather quickly after Sherlock's 'Fall,' planning his boss' funeral and moving on with business as usual. However, his plans to continue on without the man are quickly altered when Jim shows up at his doorstep once again, sans the back of his head.</p><p>Gets explicit in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haunted

_"I’m haunted_

_By the lives that I have loved_

_And actions I have hated_

_I’m haunted_

_By the lives that wove the web_

_Inside my haunted head.”_

-Haunted, Poe

______

It had been almost 24 hours since The Fall when he showed up at Sebastian’s frontdoor.

The usual pomp and circumstance, same attitude, same suit, same dark smile that made Sebastian’s blood pump faster, completely oblivious to his Second-in-Command’s sudden paleness and look of abject terror the moment he opened the door.

He strut around the flat like he owned the place, poured himself a glass of Moran’s most expensive scotch and sunk into the leather sofa like a sated cat. 

“You know Sebastian, that went even better than I’d imagined.” Moriarty purred, pressing the glass to his lips and downing the burning drink in one go. He licked his teeth and grinned.

Sebastian, for his part, avoided the master criminal’s gaze. Staying several feet behind him in the back of the living room.

He avoided those dark eyes, the slightly dirtied suit, the…the gaping hole in the back of his head that was shining light from the Bay Window through his boss’ well-bloodied teeth.

It wasn’t until Jim stood up, sauntering over and wrapping his arms around his waist that Sebastian finally cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Boss…I feel like your….your plan didn’t go as well as you seem to think.” 

Jim pulled away, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

“What did I miss? Oh God, did he survive? That clever little-“ 

Moran shook his head.

“Than what?”

It took a moment for Sebastian to place a hand on Jim’s shoulder, gently turning him to face the mirror on the opposite wall. He did his best to ignore the cold chill that traveled up his arm the moment they touched.

There, reflected perfectly across the room, was Sebastian Moran. 6’7”, blond and athletic, scars marring otherwise perfect and tanned skin and partially covered by a brown tee and grey sweats. 

And under his hand was standing, in spite of equal clarity, absolutely nothing. Thin air and nothing more. 

The pair looked from each other, to the mirror and back.

Jim opened his mouth and made a small noise that might’ve been an attempt at speech. Sebastian just cleared his throat again, his own words dying before they even got that far.

They locked eyes once more as the flat was overtaken by an uncomfortable and horrified silence.


	2. The World Has Gone Insane

_The world has lost its head!_

_And every evil hour is filled with dread!_

_I’m floating on a lake - But upside down!_

_And when I try to breathe, I start to drown!_

_I cannot speak_

_As nameless ghosts and faceless ghouls_

_Bid me join the dead!_

_No one tells these gruesome fools_

_That the world has lost its head!_

\- The World Has Gone Insane, Jekyll and Hyde

___________

 

Within a few minutes Sebastian found himself dealing with Moriarty having a complete mental breakdown. 

The mirror, formally a vision of truth and clarity, was shattered to bits as his fist made contact with it. It’s shards went flying an a pattern that didn’t really follow the laws of physics and zoomed through Jim’s body like he didn’t even exist. Maybe he didn’t, who knew? 

Next up was the scotch, the celebration over as it made contact with the wall. It knocked down one of Sebastian’s trophy heads, ‘causing its teeth to crack. As if the poor Bengal wasn’t worse off enough. 

More of his favorite things joined the first two after that. Papers, his laptop, a flat screen, dishes…It was all wrapped up with Jim launching a mahogany and leather barstool out the window where it fell four stories and landed on Mrs. Strider’s car.

Moriarty fled before the police showed up, grabbing the keys to Sebastian’s corvette on the way out.

The sniper was left alone to tend to the devastated remains of his apartment and his screaming neighbor as she stormed out of the elevator demanding explanation and payment for damages. 

He agreed without a fight, claiming himself the offender. After a week or so he began to believe it himself. He’d had a fit, finding out his unrequited lover ate a bullet for a detective. Yes, that was it. Perfectly normal reaction, yeah? And his car? He must’ve driven it somewhere in a fog and simply…simply forget it. Yeah. That made sense. It had to. Because ghostly criminals certainly didn’t. 

In fact, a month later, Jim’s spectral visit was all but forgotten, a blur of madness on Moran’s already spotty psyche record. 

Until Sebastian came down to the garage with a wallet full’ve grocery money to see his favorite vehicle sitting in its usual spot. 

The corvette looked like it’d been parked under the Thames. A sickly green and grey algae clung to every surface, weeds and scum hung from the rear view mirrors and the whole thing reeked of what could only be described as dead animal and low tide at the Peer.

And there, leaning on it with his arms folded on the roof and his face buried in them out of view, was Jim. 

He looked largely the same as the month before. The sullied suit and the gaping head wound looked particularly familiar and upsetting, looking closely Sebastian could see a slight motion of his neck as he just barely knocked his head over and over against his folded forearms.

The same stressed out madman he’d spent 15 years of sleepless nights working with. 

“Jimmy?” God, was that his voice? He sounded like a teenage kid, all cracks and nerves.

“Moran.” Jim stopped his head bashing for a moment to turn it towards his right hand man. His eyes had clouded over, like milky glass. It made Sebastian’s gut twist.

“You uh…jesus christ, what did you do to my ‘vette?”

Jim laughed. An honest laugh, like nothing was different, like they were the same as they’d ever be. 

“Turns out….” He said, nodding and stepping away from the car, turning his body towards Sebastian. “I can’t go anywhere. ‘Least not by myself.” 

He strut forward, hands in his pockets and his shoulders up. Every instinct in the Snipers body told him to run but he didn’t, merely stood there as the spectral mastermind finally reached him and rested his forehead against his chest. 

“I don’t know where I ended up.” Jim continued, exhaling loudly. “But it is not a place I wish to go again.” 

Moran remained silent, lifting a hand to Jim’s shoulder blades and running them up and down his spine in a calming manner. He relaxed slightly at the action and pressed himself closer, finally making full body contact with the man.

Eventually Sebastian put his hands on Jim’s shoulders and pushed him the tiniest bit away, the mix of genuine affection for his boss and the sheer, unexplainable discomfort of that cold, static-like touch making his skin twitch.

“You should probably go inside, I gotta just…I gotta mourn my car for a bit, yeah?”

Jim grinned and, _God help him,_ Sebastian grinned back.


	3. March into the Sea

_“Cut me down like the trees_

_Like the lumber or weeds_

_Drag me out of the sea_

_And then teach me to breathe_

_Give me forests half dead_

_I wish death on myself”_

\- March into the Sea, Modest Mouse

_______

That night was filled with an uncomfortable silence. 

Jim didn’t speak, he was staring at the new plasma screen but he seemed more lost in his own head than in the newest rerun of Primeval.

Sebastian, likewise, was trying to focus on making himself dinner and not getting lost in the hole on the back of Jim’s head.

“You can stare at it if you’d like, tiger.” Jim said, tilting his head back innocently as he pretended to watch TV. ”It’s not like you haven’t seen one before.”

Sebastian shot him a glare.

“So….what happened with my car?” he refused to give into Jim’s accusations, true though they were, and instead sat down next him on the sofa, plate full of stir-fry in hand. 

“I drove it out’ve the building.” Jim replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I’m aware of that, I mean why does it look like you drove it straight home to Dublin, _Jimmy?”_ Sebastian’s voice was an impatient growl, ghost or not Jim wasn’t going to just walk in here and act like he owed him nothing. 

He sure as fuck owed him an explanation, if not the code for his bank account so he could replace his favorite fucking vehicle and everything else he broke during his fit. 

Jim was silent, his eyes flicked from the television to Sebastian’s plate. 

“Jimmy.” Moran continued between bites. “You’re gonna have to talk eventually.”

Finally Jim let out a frustrated huff and stood up, clasping his hands together before turning to face his sniper.

“Everything beyond here, everywhere I drove, was…the sea, Moran.” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and stopped chewing for a moment.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” Jim sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. “It was just…have you ever been diving, Sebastian? In my university days I’d occasionally go diving at the Santo, this…ugly little bucket dredger wreck outside Cork Harbour, covered in algae and muck. That. That’s what it was like ‘Bastian just…London.” He made a hand motion towards the window, at the scenic view of the city from the now replaced Bay window. ”The whole city, drowned.”

He couldn’t hide the smile on his face when he described it but just as fast as it appeared, it dropped.

“And there were people…of sorts.” 

“People?” Sebastian was hooked now, placing his food on the coffee table in front of him and listening with baited breath. Jim’s very existence may be up for debate but the chance to hear about some water clogged afterlife was too fucked up not to pay attention. 

Jim’s eyes filled with an emotion Sebastian had never seen them hold; fear. He covered it up by closing them as he spoke. 

“Corpses. Not even, really. Stretched, misshapen things, trying to get into the car when I approached them. I…ha, I can’t say I’ve ever been so happy to be in that overpriced thing.”

Sebastian tilted his head, giving Jim a concerned look.

“Oh don’t.” 

“Jim, I’m not trying to be condescending, I’m just, thats-“

“Oh, scew you Moran.” Jim snapped, storming passed him into the small walk-in kitchen. “If you want a better explanation go to a church and have them tell you one. Either way, I can’t..I can’t leave.” 

Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, trying hard to think of something to say but…what do you tell a person who ate a bullet and then drove your car into some submerged version of Hell? Especially when that person was never the type for ‘normal’ human interaction to begin with.

“…You, what do you mean, you can’t leave?”

Jim shrugged, leaning over the sink and staring intensely at the wall in front of him.

“If I leave this building, it’s all green water and those….things.”

“Why didn’t you just come back?” 

“I did, _idiot.”_

“I mean _right away.“_

“I _did,_ Sebastian.”

“Jimmy….Jimmy, what month is it?” 

“Januar-“

“It’s February.”

Moriarty spun around, giving Moran a gobsmacked look. 

“I-No, it-I _left barely an hour ago!”_

Sebastian placed a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “It’s been a month Jim. At least.” 

Jim looked horrified for a moment before he seemed to deflate slightly, sinking his face into his second-in-command’s shirt and taking a deep breath. He exhaled bits of blood out his nose onto the crisp, white fabric. 

“God, Sebastian, what have I done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: Jim's descriptions of the submerged London is based on numerous popular and religious interpretations of the afterlife but is based most heavily based off of Edgar Allan Poe's famous poem, _'City Beneath the Sea.'_  
>  The loss of time is based on the idea that ghosts have no sense of passing time, something repeatedly touched on in popular culture and seems particularly in Japanese and similar asian ghost stories.


End file.
